Alternate Epilogue
by clrumbaugh
Summary: What the Epilogue at the end of Mockinjay might have said had it been from Peeta's POV. SPOILERS if you haven't read the whole trilogy yet.


_**A/N: I LOVE this trilogy. I was definitely not prepared for the emotional wreckage that would be left in its wake, though. After some consideration, I realized I didn't have a problem with the epilogue in **_**Mockingjay**_**, but I wished that it had been a little less dreary, and perhaps a little more from Peeta's POV. When it does not exist, you must create. Here is my version of the epilogue from Peeta's eyes. **_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or the story (I just named a couple of them). I am merely guessing at an alternate ending. :)**_

Business is slower tonight, so I close up early and walk to the Meadow. I know they'll be there. That's where they always go before coming to the bakery to walk me home at the end of the day.

If it weren't for baking, I don't know if I would ever have escaped the Capitol's hijacking. Once I was allowed back in 12, I picked it back up slowly at first, with bread for me and Katniss, who seemed to be having just as much trouble adjusting as I was. But soon I moved to cookies, my cakes, and eventually a full assortment. It wasn't immediate, and the flashbacks haven't gone away completely, but it helps. After a few years, I was even able to rebuild my family's bakery with help from President Paylor's rebuilding initiative, a concept so radical, at first Katniss was skeptical as to whether I should even accept the assistance. I was hesitant too, but things had already improved and we finally started to gather confidence, however slowly. Katniss still doesn't fully trust the new government, and I don't blame her, but it's getting better.

When I get to the Meadow, I see Katniss sitting on her rock, watching, lost in thought, as the children run and play in the tall, lush grass that now grows over what used to be a graveyard. I smile as I spot our daughter Prue dancing to music only she can hear. It's her mother's song, her grandfather's song in her heart, I tell her as I'm tucking her in at night. It's only a matter of time until her voice hushes the birds who have come back to populate the trees of District 12, just as theirs once did.

That's her favorite bedtime story, the one of the first day I fell in love with her mother. That had been one of the hardest memories to get back from the hijacking, but I was able to wrest it back several years before she was born, back when I was still trying to convince Katniss that things were different, that we no longer had to fear the Reaping or the Games. It had taken fifteen years to convince her of that, but she eventually agreed. She had had many panic attacks while carrying Prue, but I saw them wash away when she finally held that little girl in her arms. The attacks came back while she was carrying our son, Finna, but they weren't as bad.

I can tell by the way she sighs watching them, that she's still worried. Recently, since Prue started school, the questions have begun. We know one day we will have to explain to her and her brother why Momma still awakes with nightmares, and why Papa occasionally has to stop mid-reply to something Momma says or a look that Momma gives him to steady his breathing. But I keep telling her it will be okay. We have the book, and when the time comes, we'll be able to explain everything to them in a way that will make them stronger, braver.

Aside from her brilliant blue eyes, Prue resembles Katniss in every way, and I can't help but smile wider as she stops dancing and runs to her little brother, a giant grin on her face. He reaches his chubby hands up to her, and she dances him around slowly, their giggles filling the once stagnant and oppressive air. I watch Finna's gray eyes twinkle and his soft blond curls bounce as they dance and feel my heart swell.

"They're so beautiful," I whisper as I come up beside Katniss on the rock.

She starts at first, but a sweet smile settles on to her lips. "They are," she sighs, though concern creases her brow.

I sit next to her on the rock, and lay a protective arm around her shoulders She leans into me, and grips my free hand in hers. "They are fine, Katniss," I tell her. "They will always be fine. Things are better now. They're not going anywhere."

Katniss nods and turns her nose into my neck, breathing deeply. I'm sure I smell like dough and yeast, but she doesn't seem to mind. "My name is Katniss Mellark," I hear her whisper into my collar. "The Hunger Games no longer exist. The Capitol no longer exists. Peeta is back," she continues, wrapping her arms around me and squeezing a little. "He is my husband, and we have two children. Everything has changed. We are safe."

I turn and kiss the top of her head. "We are safe," I repeat. "That, I know is real."


End file.
